Vanilla Flames
by Sanguine Balladist
Summary: She was wrapped in vanilla and scented with hope. If there was one thing right in the world, it was her. But even vanilla can burn, and the strongest of souls can shatter.


_ "Don't tell me what to think_

_ Cause I don't care this time_

_ Don't tell me what to believe_

_ Cause you won't be there" - Going Down in Flames (3 Doors Down)_

* * *

Olivia could smell vanilla from under the door.

Everything in her apartment smelled like vanilla, from the kitchen all the way to the bedroom. The cushions of the love seat, the step-up glass shower, the sheets on the bed. Vanilla. It was her favorite scent, daily lit candles keeping it alive well into the night. It made everything so warm and inviting, threatening to trap you in its soothing embrace even in the coldest of months. Once she had joked that if the apartment burnt down it would fill the streets with vanilla and all the violence would vanish in an instant. It was the little stories like that, told in whispers and hushed breath, that made her believe the world wasn't so bad, and that it was okay to take a little time to relax and enjoy what you had. Late at night, when everything was dark and the windows were tightly shut, she would pray that if heaven were real that it would smell of vanilla.

There was always a fresh supply of scented candles kept stored in the cabinet of the living room, stacked ten deep and five high, just in case something went wrong. They never had to scramble if one finally dwindled down to pure melted wax, swirling against the small silver plate, wick seemingly vanished into thin air. So far she had managed to go through fifty three scented candles in the course of two years, and she was still counting to this very day.

"Olivia." There was a sadness to her name that she couldn't quite place, when in all reality she just didn't want to.

She didn't move, didn't lift her head, or avert her gaze. She could practically see the vanilla from under the door, thick and luscious with everything it represented, inviting her to stay for awhile longer. She had left the squad room hours ago, content with the work they had accomplished for the day, wanting nothing more then to be exactly where she was now. Her back was firmly pressed against the wall, her feet stretching out to barely graze the opposite one, arms lazily folded across her chest. Nobody could get in or out of the apartment, but that was okay with her, because that's exactly how she wanted it. She was the guardian, the keeper of the vanilla, the only one that truly understood what was there.

It had taken him five hours to figure out where she was, and he should of known all along. He had checked the precinct, the bars, even a few of her favorite restaurants just to be safe. He had tried her cellphone countless times just to be sent straight to voice mail, her tired prerecorded voice a permanent imprint in his mind by now. Reaching out, he hesitated before resting his hand on her shoulder, small and frail, reminding him of everything he hated. Reminding him of how much things had changed. "Olivia" He tried again, voice firm and low, trying desperately to it from breaking. "She isn't here."

The grip on her jacket tightened, breath caught in her throat, unable to look him in the eye. "Go away." It was a soft desperate plea in the dark to whatever it was that was trying to destroy her happiness.

He took a seat next to her, heavy and awkward, unable to situate himself right as he wrapped his arm around her neck, pulling her into his chest without so much of a struggle. At first she tensed, frozen, before grasping at his shirt, tears streaming down her face, completely letting go. As much as she hated herself for appearing weak in front of the one person she was suppose to protect, she hated him more for reminding her that she already failed at protecting the other important person in her life. The tears stained through his shirt, soaking him from neck to chest, uncaring as he held her closer, neither making a sound. He wanted to say a million and one things to assure her it wasn't her fault, that everything was okay, that things would get better, but he knew that she wouldn't hear a single one. So he held her tightly, trying desperately to shield her from a cold and bitter world.

She couldn't smell the vanilla anymore.


End file.
